Season of dread

Published in The Post-Star (B14)
3/19/06

She wore an itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny, yellow polka-dot bikini...

Yeah, right.

It's no coincidence that all those cellulite-reduction creams, diet pills and spray-on tan products are on sale at drugstores at this time of year. Welcome to swimsuit shopping season, when advertisers take aim at the insecurities many women have been hiding beneath their wool coats all winter.

For most women, the thought of baring their bodies in a bikini is about as welcome as that dream where you find yourself standing at the front of a crowded classroom in your underwear.

"Dimples. I have dimples, and I'm not talking about on my face," said one 22-year-old girl with the slim figure of a dancer, who did not want her name used because she felt self-conscious. "I'm white and pasty, and that never changes. I hate shopping for swimsuits."

According to a recent study by the Dove Campaign for Real Beauty, only 2 percent of women consider themselves beautiful, and at least half think they need to lose weight.

The messageboard on the campaign's Web site provides a glimpse of the inner monologue that goes on daily in women's dressing rooms around the world.

"My boyfriend really wants me to wear a bikini, and I'm terrified about it!" wrote one British user who described herself as size 12 or 14 (10 or 12 in U.S. sizes). "I finally picked one and was so embarrassed that as I was about to pay for it I ran out and put it back and started to cry. I really wanted it and I just wish I had the confidence to buy it."

The campaign tries to alter the negative self-perception that most women have about their bodies by using "real women with real curves" in Dove advertisements instead of anorexic-looking models.

Dove's message of self-acceptance is muddled by the company's product line, which includes "intensive firming cream" that promises to reduce the appearance of cellulite within two weeks.

But hey -- nobody's perfect.

On a recent visit to the swimsuit section at Target in Queensbury, several shoppers were ignoring the skimpiest bikinis in favor of "tankinis" or one-piece suits.

"What am I looking for? Something that will hold in my stomach, and hide a lot," said Cindy Graham, a young mother from Toronto whose family was vacationing at the new Great Escape indoor water park.

She settled on a black one-piece with a tag that promised "a slimming effect."

Meanwhile, her 9-year-old daughter, Emma, was admiring the contents of a nearby rack.

"Mom, look at this nice towel-like substance. What's it called?" she asked.

Her mother smiled.

"Terrycloth," she said. "Those are cover-ups."